About The Boy - A Tale of the World's Finest
by Ali2
Summary: Note: This is an edited and slightly revised version. Two major influences in Dick Grayson's life have a chat about the debut of Nightwing...


The author acknowledges that the names, concepts, and descriptions of the   
characters depicted here are owned by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company and   
that said owners retains complete rights to said character. These concepts are   
used WITHOUT permission for NO PROFIT, but rather a strong desire to tell my own   
tales about a few of the many characters I've enjoyed over the years. This also   
acknowledges that original concepts presented here are the intellectual property   
of the author.  
  
For you continuity cops out there, the events depicted here take place a few   
weeks after Dick Grayson has assumed his Nightwing identity as it was retold in   
one of the many Secret Files dealing with DC's characters. And before you ask,   
it's one of those easily inserted untold tales that deals with the relationship   
between well just read on, it'll explain itself...  
  
This is a revised copy so if you've read this before, feel free to ignore or   
reread it as you see fit...  
  
Without further ado we take you now to our story already in progress...   
  
  
The Daily Planet offices had seen their fair share of politicians, movie stars   
and world leaders. Important people were not the near mythical figures that the   
public-at-large thought they were in this place. They were just another lead, a   
potential story, and a chance to strike a vein of information that might make   
headlines and bylines.  
  
Yet, even in the jaded experience of most of these newspeople, there was the   
occasional exception, a person whose reputation and power far outweighed the   
"average" VIP. Such a person had just arrived to the Daily Planet's newsroom.  
  
When he walked into the office conversations stopped. People weren't used to   
seeing him up close like this, most of these people only knew him by reputation.   
A reputation which made much about his talent for disappearing from the   
spotlight in the blink of an eye when he had to among other things. He moved   
casually despite the attention. It was as if he understood the effect he had on   
people and the awe that celebrity brought with it was a burden he bore   
effortlessly on his broad shoulders.   
  
He moved with the quiet grace of familiarity through the newsroom, trying to   
look as if he belonged there with little success. One would've had an easier   
time hiding an elephant in an anthill, but he managed to make a few staffers   
feel a little less awed and more relaxed with an affable manner. He wore a   
winning smile on his face, one usually described by Lois Lane or Clark Kent in   
their reports on the man and his movements, and he nodded in the direction of a   
few people that seemed to be locked in on his arrival as if they were old   
friends he'd speak to as soon as he was finished with the business that had   
brought him here.  
  
He stopped at a young woman's desk and took in the surrounding area as if he   
were looking for something no one else could see.  
  
"C-can I help you?" the woman said with a dreamy sigh in her voice. His photos   
hadn't done him justice; he was definitely much more attractive in person. The   
raven black hair, the cool blue eyes, the muscular build were all assets that   
caught many a woman's eye over the years as they followed his exploits.   
  
He leaned in close to her and turned up the wattage on his smile. "I'm sorry to   
be such a bother, miss. I'm looking for--" He stopped, his line of sight   
locked into a group of desks near the Editor-In-Chief's office where the   
Planet's best reporters tended to work. He turned and smiled at the young woman   
apologetically, "Never mind, miss. I see exactly who I'm looking for. Thanks   
anyway."  
  
As he walked away it was obvious that his presence had rendered the young   
woman's sense of hearing useless or at best muted it under the intoxicating   
cloud of charisma seemed to linger around him.  
  
"Sure," she said still lingering in whatever dreamland that she took herself to   
during his brief visit, "my pleasure."  
  
His stroll was still calm as he crossed the pressroom, only an incredibly   
skilled observer would've noticed the subtle hint of urgent purpose that had   
crept into his step. He was here for a reason, everyone who saw him enter the   
newsroom knew how busy he was, everyone wondered how many calamities were   
happening while he was away; but no tried to stop him for a question, they   
managed to resist their journalistic instincts and let him go about his business   
like any other man on the street.  
  
He stopped at a desk occupied by an auburn tressed beauty, one of the few people   
who wouldn't be as easily impressed with him as her co-workers had been. In   
fact, she was totally oblivious to his arrival since she was finishing an   
article she had been working on when he walked in. She had good reason not to   
be overwhelmed; Lois Lane had met him on several occasions and was used to his   
presence.  
  
"There's two t's in 'committed'," he noted as he looked over her shoulder at the   
terminal.  
  
Lois gritted her teeth and made the correction without protest, she wasn't one   
for spellchecking and rewrite generally sent her a politely phrased memo and a   
red lined copy of the corrections they made to her stories prior to going to   
press. She turned her seat around so that her back effectively blocked the   
screen from further scrutiny.   
  
Lois noted the still staring pack of reporters and staff behind him and said,   
"Still making an entrance everywhere you go, I see." She picked up her lukewarm   
coffee from her desk and took a sip.  
  
He smiled and focused his gaze on her coffee mug. "Hello and it's good to see   
you too, Lois," he replied nonchalantly. "Want me to warm that up for you?"  
  
Lois smiled sweetly and took another sip from the cup. "I'm good, thanks."   
  
Leaning forward a bit, Lois slipped into full reporter mode. "So what brings   
you here?" Lois asked. "Since you made it this far, I'm assuming no one   
bothered to ask you that until now." Lois saw the wry smile spread smoothly   
onto his face as he prepared to answer and added, "I won't accept that you came   
all this way to warm up my coffee as an answer."  
  
"Actually, Lois," he began in practiced tones he generally reserved for the rest   
of the media, "I'm here for an interview with your Mister Kent. A promise I   
made to him some months back."  
  
Lois arched an eyebrow at him, she had interviewed him several times in the   
past, even invited Kent along once or twice, but he usually seemed reluctant to   
join her. She figured that Kent was just intimidated by the man himself.   
Despite being one of the better reporters she'd worked with (an admission she   
kept to herself), Kent wasn't really all that good with some of the heavyweights   
they had to cover. Yet it seems that in this case, he had overcome his   
hesitation and was trying to move in on her territory by scooping her on   
something big.   
  
Her rivalry with Clark over sensational stories and headline material had grown   
over the years and each seemed determined to outdo the other as they raced for   
the next big scoop. She conceded that Clark had sneaked this one in rather   
nicely, he never even mentioned lining this man up for an interview.  
  
Lois threw together a quick smile and allowed Kent this particular victory; she   
was following other leads that would bring her bylines on stuff that Kent   
would've killed to cover.  
  
"Let's get one thing straight, Clark's not MY Mister Kent by any stretch of the   
imagination."  
  
He smiled and threw his hands up in mock defense, "Noted for future reference,   
Ms. Lane."  
  
"That's okay," Lois said with a brilliant smile of her own, "you'll make it up   
with an exclusive the next time you do something newsworthy."  
  
"Only if we can do it over dinner," he said with a smile.  
  
"Don't push it," Lois countered. "Flattery will get you everywhere with   
everyone except me."  
  
"Also noted," he replied apologetically while he raised his hands in mock   
surrender.  
  
"Throw in dancing and you've got yourself a deal," Lois said with a wink and a   
renewed smile.  
  
He returned the smile with genuine admiration. "Done."  
  
"I'll page Kent for you," Lois said. She pushed her chair back so she could get   
a clear sight of the row of desks towards the Teletype machines.  
  
"HEY SMALLVILLE, COMPANY!!!" Lois spun her chair around and smiled innocently.   
"He should be along in a minute or two."  
  
He nodded; astonished that such a huge roar could come from such a small woman.   
Lois seemed to hear his unspoken question and said, "Daddy was in the Army."  
  
Before he could comment, a man walked around the partition that separated Lois'   
desk from the traffic of the main aisle. He wore glasses and his dark hair was   
neatly in place though he had been in the office since the early morning hours.   
His shirtsleeves were rolled up and he had a sheaf of papers in his hands fresh   
from the Teletype printer. He was powerfully built, his athletic form obvious   
even in street clothes. He seemed to radiate a warmth and genuine politeness   
that didn't seem to fit in this room full of hard edged journalists.  
  
It was probably the reason why Clark Kent was so good at his job.  
  
"What was the shouting for Lois?" Clark said exasperated. "They probably heard   
you all the way in Central City!"  
  
"Fine, Smallville," Lois answered with a clipped smile, "the next time you have   
a big name come by for an interview, I'll just do it myself rather than bother   
you with it."  
  
"What the blazes are you babbling abou--" Clark stopped short noticing that Lois   
had a visitor standing by her desk. "Bruce?" Clark said surprised. "Bruce   
Wayne? What the blazes are you doing here?"  
  
"Have you forgotten the interview you wanted me to do for that Sunday   
supplement?" Bruce's eyes spoke volumes more than his bored voice; something   
was up. Something that made Bruce Wayne leave his beloved Gotham City and drop   
in on him unannounced.  
  
Bruce Wayne was a man of whim by all reports, but Clark knew that this was a   
front. When Bruce wasn't busy making deals on Wall Street, he was dealing with   
the criminal element that plagued Gotham as the Batman. It was rare that the   
Dark Knight Detective left his home territory, rarer still that he'd come to see   
Clark Kent or his more famous alter ego, Superman.  
  
Clark decided to play along for the moment, he had a pretty good idea what was   
on Bruce's mind already.  
  
In fact he had been expecting this visit for a while.  
  
"Right!" Clark exclaimed. "I meant to schedule something with you, but I've   
been pretty busy lately."  
  
"I understand completely," Bruce said amiably. "I just happened to be   
Metropolis for the day, checking into a few joint projects I've had going with   
S.T.A.R. Labs. Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought we could have a talk   
over lunch or something. That is if you're not too busy"  
  
"I usually skip lunch, Mister Wayne," Clark said quietly with a nod towards his   
fellow reporter. "Working around Lois tends to make me lose track of time."  
  
"I can see how such a beautiful woman can do that. And it's 'Bruce' if you   
don't mind," Bruce answered smiling at Clark and Lois. Lois hadn't moved since   
the two men started talking. She was trying to figure out Clark's angle, it was   
obvious he wasn't expecting Wayne to drop by today, so her curiosity was   
aroused. Why would Bruce Wayne want to hustle Clark Kent off to lunch if it   
wasn't for the purpose of giving him an interview? Still Lois understood   
Clark's verbal cue enough to know she wasn't going to be included in whatever it   
was the two men were going to discuss over lunch.  
  
"That's not quite what he meant, Bruce," Lois noted. "I've got a feeling three   
just became a crowd, so I'll get back to work.  
  
You may as well go ahead, Smallville," Lois added with a veiled glare at Clark,   
"it's a free lunch at the very least."  
  
"And this is something I'd really like to get done today, Mister Kent. I've got   
a lot of business in Gotham that could keep me busy for quite a while."  
  
Clark thought about it for a minute and pushed his glasses back up on the bridge   
of his nose. "Okay, Bruce let me get my coat and we can get going."  
  
*****************************************************  
  
"...ABOUT THE BOY..."   
  
A TALE OF THE WORLD'S FINEST  
  
Written by Ali  
  
*****************************************************  
  
Siegel's was one of the older restaurants in Metropolis. It was a landmark in   
the city, known for its' incredible food and impressive accommodations. It was   
a watering hole for the rich and famous when they visited the city, a place   
where the elite could relax and enjoy a quiet meal like regular people. Clark   
Kent hadn't been there as a patron, but had been invited many times through mail   
sent in care of the Planet.  
  
Well Superman had been named in most of those invitations, the few invitations   
he'd gotten as Clark Kent came with his Pulitzers, but Clark never took them up   
on the offer in either identity. Bruce Wayne on the other hand, seemed to be an   
old and valued customer who had a favorite private room set aside for his   
visits. The furnishings were elegant copies of pieces from the Victorian era.   
The room conveyed a feeling of warmth with the lightly shaded peach painted   
walls and a bay window that led to an ivy-covered balcony bathed in sunlight.  
  
As Clark Kent stared across the table, he wondered if Bruce had chosen this room   
because it was so far removed from his dark life of crimefighting and vengeance.   
For Clark, it was another one of the many contradictions that he noted about   
Bruce. It seemed as if the man two identities were in a constant struggle for   
control. It was a popular opinion among the few people aware of Bruce's double   
life that Wayne was nothing more than another disguise in the Batman's bag of   
tricks, that the only time Bruce was truly himself was when he was the Batman.  
  
Clark had never really subscribed to that opinion, preferring to think that   
Bruce's obsession was one that he maintained out of choice.  
  
Still there were times...  
  
Bruce's bored playboy act went on through the ordering and serving of lunch.   
Once the room had cleared of servers, Bruce asked the maitre'd to insure that   
they wouldn't be disturbed and that they would call if they needed anything.  
  
As soon as the door was closed and locked, Bruce's pretense dropped and the more   
familiar intensity Clark associated with Batman surfaced.  
  
"Okay Bruce," Clark said choosing to cut to the chase, "what's going on here?"  
  
"Why does anything have to have to be 'going on', Clark?" Bruce said quietly.   
Clark's hearing caught the subtle bite of sarcasm in Bruce's reply. "Can't a   
man take an old friend to lunch to talk over a few things?"  
  
"I'm not buying it Bruce," Clark said skewering a cherry tomato in his salad.   
"You aren't prone to doing anything without a purpose and, as you're so fond of   
reminding me, we aren't friends."  
  
"Fine," Bruce said sharply as he cleanly sliced his steak in half. "No games   
then. It's about the boy."  
  
Clark's left eyebrow raised in surprise, "What boy would we be talking about,   
Bruce?"  
  
"You know damned well what boy," Bruce growled. "I'm not in the mood for games   
either, Clark."  
  
"He has a name, Bruce," Clark replied quietly. "If we're going to talk about   
Dick then give him the courtesy of using his name."  
  
"I'm more interested in another name he's using these days, Clark," Bruce said   
evenly. Bruce looked up at Clark and pinned him with a stare that seemed   
fiercer than any Batman had managed to use on criminals. "The name Nightwing   
mean anything to you?"  
  
"It's Dick's new identity," Clark answered after a pause. "He's just started   
using it recently and he's returned to his position as leader of the Titans."  
  
"That was after he spoke to you, Clark." There was a hint of accusation in   
Bruce's voice that Clark didn't miss.  
  
"Is this going anywhere in particular, Bruce?" Clark asked. "You seem to have   
something on your mind and I'd like to know what it is."  
  
Bruce studied Clark's face for a moment. From Bruce's expression, Clark could   
tell that Bruce was weighing what he would say next. The billionaire thought a   
moment more and then sat back in his chair, his decision made. "I made Dick   
give up his Robin identity."  
  
"I figured that much out already," Clark countered. "He didn't go into details   
but Dick had told me that."  
  
"He was getting sloppy," Bruce replied as if Clark hadn't spoken. "Taking   
unnecessary risks, making bad decisions in the middle of a firefight, refusing   
to follow orders; it was becoming a major problem."  
  
"So you fired him then." Clark's voice betrayed a certain disappointment in   
Bruce's "problem solving" skills.  
  
"I probably saved his life, Clark," Bruce said defensively. "He's not cut out   
for this kind of life. He's not taking this seriously and that's an attitude   
that can be fatal in my line of work."  
  
Clark took a sip of his lemonade and wiped the corner of his mouth with a   
napkin, "You mean OUR line of work, don't you Bruce?"  
  
"Not quite, Clark," Bruce answered curtly. "You don't run the same risks most   
of us do when we're facing some idiot with a gun during a hold up. Most of us   
can't fire death rays from our eyes and melt guns. Invulnerable skin's in   
pretty short supply too, Clark. If we get shot at, we run the very real risk of   
injury."  
  
Bruce took a moment to spear a carrot slice and chewed it. "You have no idea   
how much danger Dick may run into now because of your interference."  
  
"MY interference?" Clark sat back in his chair as if he had been shoved.  
  
"That's right, Clark," Bruce said pointing his fork in Clark's direction, "YOUR   
interference.  
  
"Dick was done with this. The masks, the costumes, the madness; all of it was   
behind him and he was set to walk away. Dick had turned the Titans over to   
Wonder Girl, he began to set up house in Manhattan and was building a new life.   
One that was far removed from crimefighting.  
  
"His part in the war was over, Bruce's eyes were cold as he fixed his gaze on   
Clark, "at least until he came to Metropolis and spoke to you."  
  
"You can't be serious," Clark replied softly. Bruce's harsh glare was all of   
the answer Clark got instead.  
  
"Fine," Clark said after a few tense moments of silence went by, "I admit it.   
Dick and I had a brief conversation a few weeks ago." Clark leaned forward and   
stared intently at Bruce. "There you've wrung the truth out of me without   
drawing a batarang. Happy?"  
  
"Not quite," Bruce answered flatly. "You've got to fix this mess."  
  
Clark's confusion was obvious for a second but he quickly regained his   
composure. "I don't follow you, Bruce. 'Fix' what exactly?"  
  
"You seem to have some influence over Dick, he'll listen to you," Bruce said.  
  
Realization dawned on Clark's face. "You want me to convince Dick to give up   
his Nightwing identity, don't you?"  
  
"You convinced him to adopt it, Clark," Bruce replied. "It stands to reason   
you'd be able to talk him out of this foolishness."  
  
Clark seemed to be stunned for a moment, but his face settled into a thoughtful   
expression as he shoveled a forklaod of salad into his mouth. Clark chewed   
quietly and watched Bruce's attempts to control his irritation at his sudden   
silence grow.  
  
"How's Jason?" Clark asked after taking a sip from his water glass.  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Jason," Clark answered quietly. "You might remember him, he's your current   
partner. Still trying to adopt him?"  
  
Bruce's fork clattered loudly onto his plate as he sat back. "I don't see what   
Jason has to do with this."  
  
"Don't you, Bruce?" Clark nearly smiled as Bruce attempted to figure out what   
was going on.  
  
"No," Bruce said with an annoyed tone of voice, "frankly I don't see what Jason   
has to do with Dick's new identity or your being responsible for it."  
  
"Don't blame me," Clark said amiably, "you raised him."  
  
"How dare you," Bruce's temper was still smoldering a bit but it was building   
into a decent fire with each passing second. "I trained Dick to follow orders,   
make intelligent decisions, and take care of himself out on the streets. What   
he's doing now flies in the face of all the training I've given him.  
  
"You come along and tell the boy that it's okay to go back out there and risk   
his life as if he's as indestructible as you are and it's MY fault?"  
  
Clark nodded quietly. "I didn't take Dick in as my partner and raise him,   
Bruce, you did. I'm not the one playing overprotective parent and trying to   
lock Dick out of the only life he's ever known, you are. I'm not trying to   
replace Dick with another child that reminds me of him, you are. I'm not the   
one trying to make my bond stronger to Jason by adopting him, as I should have   
done with Dick, you are. I'm certainly not the one who raised him to be   
resilient enough in mind and spirit to come back from the sort of rejection   
you've given him and carry on.   
  
"If anyone's at fault for the type of man Dick Grayson's become over the years,   
Bruce, I'd take a look in the mirror before I board a plane to Metropolis   
looking for a scapegoat."  
  
Silence settled in between the two men again. Bruce's eyes stayed on Clark as   
he went back to eating his lunch. Bruce's stare was hard and distant for a time   
and then something seemed to bring Bruce back to the moment.  
  
"You're his hero, you know," Bruce said so softly that even Clark's enhanced   
hearing almost missed it.  
  
Clark looked up from his plate and smiled, "A lot of people tell me that."  
  
"Seriously, Clark," Bruce continued quietly, "he looked up to you. Do you   
remember the first case we worked on together?"  
  
"The Magpie thing?"  
  
Bruce nodded. "I was reviewing the case with Dick as a part of understanding   
the way a criminal's pattern can emerge and be predicted with careful   
observation. Do you know what he said when we had finished?  
  
"'Wow! Did you really meet Superman?'"  
  
Bruce smiled at the memory despite himself. "He was eight or nine at the time,   
Clark, and Dick practically worshipped the ground you flew across."  
  
"Dick's a great kid, Bruce," Clark said sincerely. "You did a good job raising   
him."  
  
"Not necessarily," Bruce said shaking his head. "Dick and I butted heads a lot   
as he hit his teens. I wasn't pleased about the Titans thing or when he dropped   
out of college."  
  
"You had a problem with his dating too I'm sure," Clark replied. "What parent   
isn't protective of his child as he grows up?"  
  
"I'm not his father, Clark."  
  
"Come off it, Bruce. You've always been his father despite your protests."  
  
"But he came to you when he needed someone to talk to," Bruce said flatly.   
  
"You pushed him away, Bruce," Clark said softly. "He would've come to you if   
you were willing to listen to him."  
  
"Probably, but I doubt it," Bruce said. "I always envied the fact that Dick   
looked up to you so much. As a child he had the whole deal, Superman pajamas,   
the action figures, even on Halloween he insisted on dressing up as you for the   
first few years he lived at the house."  
  
"I'm flattered, Bruce," Clark replied, "but Dick thinks much more of you than   
you think."  
  
"So you say, Clark, but--"  
  
"I know that for a fact, Bruce," Clark said cutting the other man off. "Dick   
had hoped that his Robin days would come to an end the day he took up your name   
and mission." Clark watched Bruce's face betray his surprise and let it sink in   
for a moment. "He told me that he wanted to be the next Batman, Bruce,   
something that he felt would honor you and everything you did for him. Hardly   
the aspirations of someone who didn't respect you."  
  
Bruce turned from Clark and stared out of the window. Clark sat there for a few   
minutes and waited feeling the conversation hadn't quite come to an end.  
  
"I just want what's best for him, Clark."  
  
"I know, Bruce," Clark said. "I'm sure Dick knows that too."  
  
"Did he tell you why I fired him?"  
  
"No," Clark answered. "I didn't feel it was my place to ask."  
  
Bruce nodded his understanding. "He was shot during a fight with the Joker. I   
forgot everything and went numb when he fell. It was my parents all over again   
for a minute, Clark. You can't imagine how helpless I felt. You can't begin to   
imagine how angry I was either."  
  
"I'd be angry too if I saw my child shot down by some madman, Bruce."  
  
"No, not at the Joker, but at Dick and myself." Bruce shook away the memory of   
a rainslicked rooftop and Dick's blood being washed into the grime while the   
Joker laughed and ran away. "Dick's mind wasn't on his job and it nearly cost   
him his life. My own overconfidence in his abilities made me think he'd stay   
out of harm's way when things got crazy."  
  
"It was bound to happen sooner or later, Bruce," Clark said patiently. "All of   
us, including me, do this with the odds eventually turning against us. I didn't   
approve of your bringing Dick into this kind of life from the beginning, but he   
learned his lessons well. I can't think of another person outside of the League   
that I'd be able to count on besides Dick.  
  
Still the reality of what we do involves the possibility that we'll go out there   
to protect someone and not come back alive. You of all people knew that was a   
possibility and you still took Dick out there with you."  
  
Bruce barked a harsh laugh. "Nothing short of doomsday would kill you, Clark."  
  
"Maybe," Clark agreed, "but I run the same risk if the opponent's strong enough.   
The point is you were scared and you still are."  
  
Bruce's head snapped around to look at Clark's face. His expression was pure   
Batman, meant to drive back any doubts about his courage.  
  
"I wasn't scared."  
  
"A young man you think of as a son was wounded by your most dangerous enemy and   
you weren't fast enough to prevent it," Clark said. "From where I sit Bruce,   
I'd have been scared. Concerned at the very least."  
  
"I was concerned," Bruce conceded softly.  
  
Clark said nothing but nodded a silent acceptance of Bruce's admission.  
  
"I'm not going to tell Dick to give up being Nightwing because he's not doing   
this because me. He's not doing this because of Jason, this is for you and for   
himself." Clark set a firm hand on Bruce's shoulder, "Sooner or later, Bruce,   
you'll have to accept the fact that Dick's a grown man now and is going to go   
his own way.  
  
"Trust him a little, Bruce, I think he was raised by a fairly competent man."  
  
Clark looked at his watch and reached for his coat. "I need to get back to   
work. Knowing Lois, she's probably paying someone on the staff here to let her   
sneak in disguised as a food server so she can listen in on our 'interview'. As   
it is, I'll have to come up with a reason why didn't get one with you.  
  
"You wouldn't happen to have any juicy secrets I can use for the supplement do   
you?" Clark deadpanned.  
  
"Here," Bruce reached into his pocket and pulled out a tape. He handed the   
cassette to Clark.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"Our interview, I think I managed to get your Kansas inflection right if Lois   
should stumble upon it."  
  
"Thanks," Clark answered with a smile as he slipped the cassette into his breast   
pocket. "I'll edit it as I see fit. Just one last question, Bruce."  
  
"Sure."  
  
"How did you know Dick and I had a talk in the first place?"  
  
Bruce smiled and reached for his coat. "Trade secret."  
  
"Right," Clark said walking to the door. "Have a safe trip back to Gotham."  
  
"Clark?" Bruce's voice stopped the larger man as he had begun to turn the knob.  
  
"What is it Bruce?"  
  
"Thanks for being there," Bruce extended his hand, "for both of us."  
  
"I'm glad I could help," Clark answered as he shook Bruce's hand warmly.   
  
"After all," Clark said with a smile, "what are friends for?"  
  
*****************************************************  
  
The End  



End file.
